


The Road Not Taken (And Other Love Songs)

by annabeeus



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, References to recreational drug use, Robert Frost, SWEET BOYS, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeeus/pseuds/annabeeus
Summary: Pacifica, half-high and very annoyed at Mabel, accompanies Dipper on a trip down to the general store.
Relationships: Pacifica Northwest & Mabel Pines, Pacifica Northwest/Dipper Pines
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	The Road Not Taken (And Other Love Songs)

**Author's Note:**

> cute oneshot!! they are ambiguously aged up, there was no good place to mention it. also unbeta'd so be wary for grammatical errors eek

Pacifica sat out and tested the creaking, ancient wood of the second step up into the Mystery Shack. She bounced on it for a bit, just to see if it’d fall through, if maybe that was the entrance to some other weird, magical tomb Ford’d hid underneath. Her Pitt had gotten too warm in that time, sat out cooking underneath the sun of a hot Oregon summer. Inside Mabel stood leaning on the register and spoke tongues into her portable fan. 

“Can you put this back in the fridge for me?” Pacifica slapped the can down on the counter. Mabel looked over at her with a tired grin, clearly melting from the heat. Understandable - inside the Shack things heated much faster than the chill overgrowth of the surrounding forests. 

“Sure thing, sweet thang,” Mabel sing-songed, continuing to make weird noises from the back of her throat as she swiped the can and slid it to the back of the tiny fridge behind the counter. Pacifica held back a tiny smile at that (the back of the fridge was practically the coldest place in Gravity Falls, and Mabel let her can take up that space). “Ugh, can we like - go do something? Anything.” In her despair Mabel draped herself over the counter.

“I think Stan should replace your front steps,” Pacifica said instead, glancing back out the broken-screen window to take a scan of the steps she’d been standing on. 

“Grunkle Stan doesn’t do shit like that anymore,” Mabel mumbled into the counter, face covered by her mess of brown hair. Pacifica wrinkled her nose.

“Stop drooling on the register, dumbass,” She snarked, Mabel now lifting her head and pushing back all the strands in front of her face (in vain) to get a good look at Pacifica.

“Dipper does that shit now,” Mabel said in that tone she  _ knew  _ Pacifica hated - the one that came with wiggling eyebrows and some dorky jig. “You know, Dipper? My single twin brother?”

“Right,” Pacifica said. “Well, let him know he should fix the steps then. And maybe repaint them, they’re not looking so good.”

“Tell him yourself,” Mabel winked, and winked again with the other eye for good measure. Pacifica shook her head but gave Mabel a noogie anyway, since she was her best friend and best friends - annoying or not- deserved noogies. As Pacifica drifted away from her to grab something off the shelf and fiddle with it for like an hour, Mabel leaned on her fists and made obnoxious kissing noises.

“Shut up, Mabel,” Pacifica groaned, mentally warning herself not to stop her foot like a child. Because she wasn’t - even if Mabel was being one. Mabel shot her a grin and turned to the fan, now making the kissing noises echo across the gift shop eerily. “Seriously, shut up.” 

The kissing noises continued.

“Jesus, come on, let’s like go set something on fire or whatever,” Pacifica rolled her eyes. Immediately Mabel dropped the noises, grinning like a true champion.

“Chill, I’ve got weed,” She said. 

~~

About two hours later Pacifica watched with lazy eyes as Mabel lit little pieces of paper on fire with her lighter. The weed had set in, but she hadn’t smoked so much (there was a possibility her parents could come home and smell it on her) and the heat was getting to her. They were both sprawled out on Mabel’s living room floor, a curse from the flame getting too close to Mabel’s fingers coming up now and again. Pacifica traced the old curves of the wooden ceiling with her eyes and imagined herself walking along them like paths in a forest. No noise. 

“Uh...guys?” A voice came from the doorway, and Pacifica rolled over onto her stomach to see the intruder. Dipper stood with his hand raised in door-knocking position as if asking to enter the room, his hat gripped tightly in the other hand. Absently Pacifica rubbed at her chin - Dipper had a bit of scruff there now that had been absent the past summer. “What’s up?” He sounded like he was holding back a laugh.

“Dicks,” Mabel giggled, tossing him the lighter and flopping back onto that ugly old couch with triumph. Dipper caught the lighter right before it flipped open and landed on the wooden floorboards (hurray for reflexes). “Helicopters. Clouds, I dunno.”

“Are you guys high?” Dipper asked incredulously. 

“Yep,” Pacifica popped the ‘p’ and was sure to avoid all eye contact with Dipper Pines.  _ Mason _ . “Whoops.”

“Yeah, whoops,” Mabel smiled at Pacifica like they were sharing some sort of secret. Pacifica reached out to grab onto her hand, although the position was a little awkward because of the height difference.

“Lucky,” Dipper whistled, glancing back at the front door. “Listen, do you guys need anything from the general store? I’ve gotta drive down there for some nails and mechanical pencil refills.”

“Nerd,” Mabel accused.

“Nerd,” Pacifica agreed, finally meeting Dipper’s eyes and smiling. His cheeks were redder than usual, probably due to the heat (the house was a little cooler than the Mystery Shack, but not by much). Dipper held eye contact with her for an uncomfortably long time and she stopped smiling - it was a little weird to smile at him anyway. Finally, he cleared his throat like a frog had been clogging it up and had an intense staring contest with the floor.

“So, I’m guessing you guys don’t need anything?” No response. “Alright, I’m gonna head out then-” He turned to head out, slipping his hat back on in the process.

“Take Pacifica with you,” Mabel demanded. “She likes looking at - looking through the windows. Of a car. You should take her with you.” Dipper frowned in confusion, glancing between Mabel (whose eyes were burning with argument) and Pacifica (whose eyes were decidedly not looking at him). 

“Um, okay,” Dipper agreed, scratching the back of his head. “Pacifica, do you wanna go?” Mabel squeezed Pacifica’s hand so badly it left marks from her nails.

“Yes,” She managed to choke out, shooting Mabel a glance when Dipper’s back was turned. Pacifica followed Dipper at a distance to his - sorry, Ford’s - beaten pick-up and watched the little rocks that made up the parking lot get kicked up by her sneakers. 

Dipper got into the driver’s seat and watched her like the weirdo he was as she hopped in (not at all struggling to make the big leap from the ground onto the car). He seemed incredibly nervous, which did not make Pacifica anymore comfortable to be driving with him. 

They started driving. Ford’s radio played some dumb song from the sixties and neither bothered to change the station - Pacifica’s hands stayed at her sides, Dipper’s on the wheel, as if afraid to move. 

“Uh...It’s really pretty out here. Right? I mean, the trees,” Dipper said as he turned to look at her. She frowned.

“Are you okay?” Pacifica asked, watching sweat beads form on his forehead. Dipper turned back to face the road and swallowed hard.

“Yeah,” He answered, tapping along to the next song against the leather steering wheel. She watched his fingers tap up and down against the worn wheel - and then stopped watching them because her cheeks were pink and that was very embarrassing. 

“It is pretty out here,” She agreed finally, watching out the window as they bumbled past all of the trees and the moss and the shrubs she’d known her whole life. Through the thin trees the whole forest was visible - miles and miles down, who knows what was back there? “I like it when the greenery’s down enough so you can see through the forest. You know?”

“Yeah, so do I,” Dipper smiled absently to himself. “It reveals so much you never get to see otherwise. Like you’re getting a peek of the backstage of life.” Pacifica rolled her eyes, then stopped midway through and mentally noted to memorize the way he’d said that last sentence.

“Yeah,” She breathed, folding her arms across her chest protectively. “The road less traveled by.”

“Robert Frost, yes!” Dipper said excitedly. They shared a grin, managing to stay like that for longer than two seconds before returning to their corners again. “That poem’s great. I always get stuck on the two paths - even if I’ve taken the one less traveled, I’m still missing a whole other trail. Other sights and places and - and people. To see, I mean.” 

“I feel that way too,” Pacifica said softly. “Like my life is just wasting away because I can’t spend every second seeing something new. Especially since I’m stuck here.” She gestured around them and he laughed - it was a deep laugh that came from his stomach. Pacifica hid her blush with the strands of hair falling from her ponytail. 

“I guess Gravity Falls has a special place in my heart,” Dipper mused. “Hey, do you wanna change the station?”

“Please,” Pacifica groaned and he laughed again. It was probably one of the best sounds she’d ever heard. She reached forwards and flicked to another frequency. It was an eighties song she recognized, so they stayed on it. Dipper seemed pleased with her pick - the finger tapping intensified tenfold. 

They pulled up on the general store and Pacifica got out, breathing that great scent of cow manure and smoke and the weed stench still semi-stuck to her clothes. Dipper waited by his door awkwardly for her to join in walking next to him up to the store and into it - his hand kept coming in and out of his front pocket frantically like he kept checking for something or he couldn’t figure out what to do with his limbs. 

Many things in the general store spooked Pacifica - weird busts and Confederate flags and the like. Typical Oregon shit, especially for their backwater town filled with crazies. She drifted in between the candy and the guns aimlessly, admiring one of the big ones. 

“Are you ready to go?” Dipper materialized beside her, sending Pacifica two feet in the air and also six feet in the ground from how close he was standing to her. Their chests were practically touching. Freaking out internally and probably a little externally, Pacifica grabbed a bag of mixed nuts off the shelf with a nervous grin.

“Yep,” She replied. “Did you find everything you wanted?” He looked at her for a moment with those big doe eyes.

“Sure,” Is the reply he finally landed on, shooting her a quiet grin and then heading towards the counter (still hesitating and allowing her time to catch up). As they checked out and Dipper fiddled with his wallet, his other hand came slipping down and interlocked their pinkies. Pacifica stared at the side of his face - Dipper did not look at her, although his eyes were as wide as saucers. As the bored preteen at the desk smacked her gum and gathered his change, Pacifica took in a breath and found her hand intertwining with his all the way. They walked out of the store not looking or speaking to each other, but their hands clutching one another and slicing through the tension like a dull knife. When they reached the truck, all the way on the other side of the general store’s parking lot, Dipper kicked one of the front tires absently and then pulled her closer to him. 

It seemed he was building up courage.

“Hello,” He said instead of whatever romantic shit Pacifica’d been thinking he’d come up with. “Uh, right. Thanks for coming with me.”

“Yeah,” She said. Guess she wasn’t so good at that stuff either. “I’m glad I came.” Dipper’s whole face lit up like a caught flame, both red and glinting, the grin spreading from ear to ear.

“Yeah?” He asked anxiously, eyes flickering between both of her eyes as if unable to choose which one to focus on. Pacifica blinked and then laughed. Jesus, was he awkward.

“Yes, Dipper,” Pacifica said. “Mason, I mean.” It seemed impossible, but his grin grew wider. 

“I’m glad,” He breathed.

“We’re going in circles now,” Pacifica commented. Mason nodded absently. Then he lunged forwards to kiss her soundly, letting go of her hand to snake his way up along the side of her neck. Pacifica’s sneakers caught on the rocks, almost making her trip. Luckily his arm came around her back, finding a snug place on the small of her back and holding her up. She let him kiss her because he was a  _ great  _ kisser and also she could feel his giant grin through his lips - Pacifica was (though she’d never admit this) probably smiling too. He held her so close she felt her chest press against his, melt into his, all air between them compress and release. She reached up her arms to toss them around his neck, playing with the bottom of Mason’s hair that peaked out from his cap (he’d gone a while without a haircut). He pulled away, still shining with excitement and happiness and all those nice things you’d want to see on the face of someone who’s looking at you.

“Thanks,” He said, grin going nervous. Pacifica laughed and laughed, until she finally stopped kissing him enough to get into the truck and let him drive her back to the Shack.


End file.
